Seek the Stars Read online

  So it was quite a while before the Earl was able to explain why he had come to Fez.

  He told the Sultan that he wished to get in touch urgently with the Missionary, Father Christopher.

  The Sultan immediately gave instructions that the Earl was to be told as soon as Father Christopher was known to have arrived in Fez.

  And the Earl realised that it might well be a number of days before this happened and therefore he relaxed and enjoyed himself.

  The Sultan was very intelligent and had surrounded himself with some of the best brains in Morocco.

  The lengthy luncheons and dinners he gave for the Earl were attended, of course, entirely by men and there was no question of any of the women in the Sultan’s harem eating with them.

  It was very hot in the daytime, but refreshingly cool at night.

  There were a number of interesting sights in Fez that the Earl had not seen on his last visit.

  The days passed, but when there was no news of Father Christopher, the Earl began to grow impatient.

  He wondered if, after all, the Missionary had not made his way straight to Fez and he might instead have chosen to linger in some other town.

  There were one or two on the route that, as the Earl knew, would welcome a Medical Missionary.

  The day after Sadira had arrived the Earl and the Sultan had gone to a camel market.

  It had taken place some way outside the City and it had proved very interesting to watch the camels being paraded round a ring and then being sold to the highest bidder.

  There were also a number of horses for sale that the Earl inspected carefully and he advised the Sultan which ones were the best in his opinion.

  They were late arriving back at The Palace and the Earl climbed up two storeys to his room to change for dinner.

  He thought as he did so that he was growing bored with eating shish kebab and deep-baked chicken tajine. Also a steaming mountain of couscous, which was prepared in Fez and contained cinnamon and sweet yellow raisins.

  He felt irritated by the small plates of peppery condiments, olives, nuts, and sweetmeats that were frequently offered to him by the Sultan’s most attentive servants.

  What he really wanted was a glass of champagne rather than the scalding and intensely sweet green mint tea.

  Nevertheless he knew that all this was what would be waiting for him when he went down the stairs and he recognised that what was really upsetting him was the fact that he had not yet found Sadira.

  He finished his meal with the Sultan with some relief.

  As he did so, one of the servants, first making an obeisance, informed him that Father Christopher had arrived the previous evening.

  “Why was his Lordship not informed immediately?” the Sultan demanded angrily.

  The man explained with embarrassment that they had been watching the main entrance into the City and Father Christopher, he claimed, had entered by a less well used gateway.

  The Sultan was extremely annoyed that his orders had not been carried out efficiently enough.

  The Earl, however, was greatly comforted and he thanked him for a delicious meal and asked if he could have a guide.

  He wished to be taken immediately to wherever Father Christopher was staying.

  The moon was shining brightly as he left The Palace so that it was easy to see the way to the entrance of the Old City.

  Then they were walking through the endless narrow passages where the moon could not percolate and it was very dark and somewhat foreboding.

  Although it was growing late, the passages were crowded with people.

  There were children carrying wooden trays of bread dough on their heads, women doing the family wash at an exquisitely tiled public fountain and bearded old men selling caged birds.

  The old Berber women with tattooed chins squatted on the kerbs with their hands held out as they begged for money from the passers-by.

  There were numbers of ragged porters dragging or pushing slow-moving donkeys loaded down with sheepskins.

  The Earl followed behind his guide closely, who was wearing the traditional long white djellaba with its sharply peaked hood like all the other men in the streets.

  The night air was clamorous with rhythmic hammerings as the iron workers were busy on their kettles and there were coppersmiths tap-tapping on ornate trays and the continual sound of the high voices of street vendors.

  The guide twisted in and out of the passages, apparently well aware of where he was going.

  They were moving swiftly and, as they went deeper and deeper into the Old City, they were continually interrupted by the cry,

  “Balek! Balek!”

  The Earl knew already from his previous visit to Morocco that this meant, ‘make way’.

  He moved quickly into a doorway as a donkey came round the corner and it as usual carried so much on its back, whatever the load, that it swept against the Earl’s chest as it passed by him.

  Then the guide was now off again and they were moving through an aroma of spices and newly-cut cedar wood, singed ox-horn and hot cooking oil.

  The Earl began to think that they must have reached the very bottom of the hill where the City of Fez was first built.

  There was suddenly a flaring light ahead of them and the guide turned his head to say to the Earl,

  “Fire, Excellency. House on fire!”

  The Earl knew that this often happened in Fez for the majority of the houses in the Old City were built of wood.

  They walked on and now the Earl saw in front of him that there was a small square with a fountain in the centre of it.

  On the far side of the square a crowd had collected to stare at one of the houses and out of its doors and windows flames were leaping up into the sky.

  The guide kept going forward towards it and the Earl followed him.

  As they drew nearer still, he was suddenly afraid that this might just be the house where Sadira was staying.

  Even as he thought of it, he saw a white-haired man who was taller than the crowd around him.

  He was wearing a cassock and the Earl then struggled to reach him, but the crowd was too thick.

  As he moved forward a little, he saw several women being brought out through the door of the burning house.

  As one of them was supported outside by two men, she screamed,

  “My baby! My baby! It is left behind. My baby!”

  Her voice rose to a shrill screech.

  And then from the other side of the man with the white hair the Earl amazingly saw Sadira move forward to speak to the woman.

  Then Sadira ran straight into the house that the people had just escaped from.

  He could hardly believe his eyes as he watched what was happening.

  There was a murmur among the crowd, as if they were protesting at what Sadira had just done.

  The Earl suddenly realised that he was just standing there staring at the flaming house.

  Quickly he pulled off his coat and said to his guide urgently,

  “Give me your djellaba.”

  The guide took it off and thrust it into the Earl’s arms.

  Moving to the fountain, he dipped the djellaba into the water.

  When it was fully soaked, he lifted it out dripping with water and put it on.

  “Now I want another one,” he ordered sharply.

  This the guide translated into Arabic and a man standing near the Earl understood what he wanted

  He pulled off the djellaba that he was wearing and then thrust it into the fountain.

  The Earl snatched it from him and, as the people moved rapidly to one side, he ran into the burning building after Sadira.

  Inside the centre of the house was not burning as violently as the outer walls.

  There was a staircase in front of him and he was about to climb it, thinking that the baby Sadira had gone to rescue would be on the first floor.

  There was a sudden crash and the staircase to the front of him collapsed in flames and smoke
.

  It was then, as the Earl stared in dismay, that he saw Sadira.

  She had come from a back room behind the staircase and, as the staircase was torn apart, she stopped and looked upwards.

  The Earl knew at once that she was praying.

  Then the leaping flames seemed suddenly to encircle her, enveloping her in a halo of light.

  Just for a second the Earl looked at her with the baby held close to her heart.

  Then he ran forward and without speaking threw the soaking djellaba over her, covering her head with the hood.

  He lifted her and the baby up into his arms.

  “Hide your face against me!” he urged Sadira.

  As he felt her obey him, he moved towards the door.

  By now the fire had complete control of the house and the Earl knew that the only thing he could do would be to rush his way through the flames.

  Holding Sadira very tightly in his arms, he bent his head and took a deep breath.

  Then he crashed through the fire and out into the cool darkness beyond.

  As he did so, the crowd started cheering.

  When he reached them, a dozen hands beat out the flames which, despite the wetness of the djellaba, had started to burn the cotton at its edges.

  Aware that he was outside and still alive, the Earl pushed back the hood from over his head.

  Gently he removed the djellaba covering Sadira that had concealed the baby from the crowd.

  When they saw that he had brilliantly rescued them both, they cheered even more loudly.

  The mother of the child went down on her knees before the Earl.

  She kissed his feet before she rose to take the baby from Sadira’s arms with streams of tears running down her cheeks.

  “He is – all right. He is – not hurt,” Sadira stammered in a trembling voice that seemed to come from a long distance away.

  As if to confirm her words, the baby started to cry.

  The Earl threw off his smoking djellaba and once again picked Sadira up in his arms.

  “I will take you home,” he promised gently.

  She was too overcome and shocked by what had happened to be able to reply.

  She just closed her eyes and rested her head against his shoulder.

  Father Christopher then came to the Earl’s side.

  “I can only thank God,” he said, “that you were here and that your bravery has saved Sadira when I thought it impossible for her to survive the intense heat of the fire.”

  “I am taking her now to The Palace,” the Earl replied, “and I would like to see you in the morning please.”

  “Of course,” Father Christopher nodded.

  With Sadira in his arms the Earl followed the guide who was leading them back through the Old City.

  The crowd made way for them to pass and get away from the now smouldering house.

  And once again they were in the narrow darkened passages, but this time moving uphill instead of down.

  It was a long way back to The Palace, but the Earl found that Sadira was very light.

  Far too light and too fragile, he reflected, to have even attempted such an amazing act of courage.

  He knew that, if he had not been there, she would most certainly have been burned to death.

  After some time they reached the gateway of the Old City.

  Now it was easy to see by the light of the moon and Sadira stuttered,

  “I-I think I can – walk now.”

  ‘There is no need for you to do so,” the Earl answered, “and the sooner you can rest after all that you have been through the better.”

  “H-how could – you be there, how could you – suddenly appear – when I thought – both the baby and I must – d-die?”

  “I will tell you about it tomorrow,” the Earl replied. “Now you are going to be the guest of the Sultan and I think you will find it very much more comfortable than where you have been staying.”

  She looked up at him in surprise and the light of the moon was full on her face.

  The Earl thought that no woman could be more beautiful and at the same time somehow pathetic and in need of protection.

  He did not say anything more as he walked through The Palace garden and into the great building itself.

  The guide had gone ahead of them, talking in his own language to explain to the Sultan’s servants what had happened in the Old City.

  One of them, obviously with some authority, led the way for them upstairs.

  The Earl carried Sadira into what he knew was one of the best guest rooms. There was a luxurious divan to sleep on and cushions to sit down on were set out on an exquisitely made carpet.

  Very gently he put Sadira down on the bed.

  She was wearing, he could see, only a simple muslin gown which he was aware would have burnt quickly if the flames had caught it.

  She looked up at him from the bed.

  Her face was very pale, but there was a smile on her lips.

  For a moment they were alone in the room while the manservant went to fetch maids to attend to Sadira.

  “Is it – really really true that you are – h-here and – and you have – saved me?” Sadira whispered.

  “It is true,” the Earl answered.

  As he spoke, he bent forward and kissed her gently on the lips.

  Then, the maids came hurrying into the room, chattering loudly at the horror of what had happened in the Old City.

  The Earl straightened himself and moved away from the bed.

  Just for a second his eyes met Sadira’s.

  Then, knowing that there was nothing more he could do for her, he walked towards the door.

  chapter seven

  Hopkins called the Earl at his usual time in the early morning.

  When he had drawn back the curtains, he spoke up,

  “Good morning, my Lord. There be a letter come from the British Embassy for you.”

  He put it down on the bed beside the Earl and he picked it up.

  He recognised at once his secretary’s handwriting and wondered what could be so urgent that he had written again.

  Mr. Barrett had already written to say that Sadira’s horse and her dog had been removed from Langbourne Hall to Kensall Park on his Lordship’s explicit instructions. They were both settling down quite happily.

  The Earl now opened the letter and the first words he read made him stiffen.

  Mr. Barrett had written,

  “My Lord,

  I am writing to tell you that the newspapers have today announced the death of the Marchioness of Langbourne resulting from a regrettable shooting accident which involved Lord Cairn.”

  The Earl drew in his breath.

  He knew Lord Cairn. He was an eccentric old gentleman, who was a member of White’s Club.

  It amused him when he went out at night to carry a revolver with him in his pocket.

  When he was approached by footpads, which was inevitable around Piccadilly, he would draw his revolver and confront them with it.

  When they then ran away terrified, he would fire harmlessly into the air or onto the ground after them and this caused them to run even quicker.

  He greatly enjoyed what he considered to be ‘good sport’, although the Earl and the other members of the Club considered it undignified behaviour for a Peer of the Realm.

  Mr. Barrett’s letter continued,

  “Because I thought that your Lordship would want to know the full circumstances, I got in touch with the butler. He told me, of course, in the strictest confidence that the Marquis had gone away for the night, but returned home unexpectedly.

  He found her Ladyship and Lord Cairn in compromising circumstances and threatened them with divorce proceedings.

  Apparently Lord Cairn sprang out of bed and, seizing his revolver, threatened to shoot his Lordship.

  Her Ladyship screamed and in an attempt to avoid a scandal tried to force up Lord Cairn’s arm. Unfortunately she also pushed him and, as he had been drinking he
avily, he fell backwards. In doing so he pulled the trigger and the bullet buried itself in her Ladyship’s breast.

  The doctor was sent for, but her Ladyship never regained consciousness and died the following morning. His Lordship is naturally deeply distressed and, if your Lordship has been successful in finding Lady Sadira, perhaps you could then inform her Ladyship of the circumstances.

  I remain.

  Your obedient servant,

  Robert Barrett.”

  The Earl read the letter through twice.

  Then he told himself that, as far as he and Sadira were concerned, nothing could be more fortunate.

  He could understand exactly what had happened.

  The Marquis, having been outwitted once, was determined not to let it occur again and he knew that Lord Cairn, besides being an eccentric, was also a heavy drinker.

  It was easy therefore to see how such an accident could have happened.

  While the Earl was dressing, he sent Hopkins to find out if Sadira was awake yet.

  When he came back, the valet reported,

  “According to the maids who’s lookin’ after her Ladyship, she’s sleepin’ like a baby, my Lord. If you asks me, it’s the very best thing her Ladyship could do.”

  “I agree with you,” the Earl said. “Tell the maids I am going driving with the Sultan, but they are to insist that her Ladyship stays in bed and rests. She should not attempt to get up today.”

  “I’ll tell ’em, my Lord,” Hopkins replied, “but I expect, it’s what they’ll be thinkin’ themselves. They’re a lazy lot when your Lordship compares ’em to what English lady’s maids do.”

  The Earl smiled, but did not reply.

  When he had finished dressing and had eaten his breakfast, he reckoned that the Sultan would be waiting for him.

  *

  Sadira stirred in her comfortable and felt as if she was coming back to life through a very long dark tunnel.

  She thought that she must have slept all through the night.

  When she eventually opened her eyes, she could see that the sunshine was streaming in through the windows of the room.

  For a moment she could not think where she could possibly be.

  Then she remembered all that had happened last night and how the Earl had saved her in the nick of time from a blazing inferno.